


February 10th - White Chocolate Cherries

by Dreamkissed



Series: Dreamkissed's Bellamione V-Month Collection! [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Character Turned Into Vampire, Cliffhangers, Evil Voldemort (Harry Potter), F/F, One Shot, Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Vampire Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22961932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamkissed/pseuds/Dreamkissed
Summary: Ripped from everything she knew, Hermione finds herself once more in a new world.  Surrounded by new people, new rules, and new expectations, she discovers that she is on the top of the tree now.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: Dreamkissed's Bellamione V-Month Collection! [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619044
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63





	February 10th - White Chocolate Cherries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drD/gifts).



Hermione watched the tip of her pen hover over the parchment, focused on the subtle details in the piece, variations in the texture, the faint orientation of the tissue. She was not sure if it was the vampiric curse, her magic, or some lingering artifact of her time turner use mixing with space charms, but she was aware of some sense she could not put words to, some fundamental harmony of reality. Her eyes moved to the tip of the pen, the shockingly smooth yet rugged ball nestled in the tip, coated in ink slowly crystallizing. She felt an ever-present hum, the pull of entropy forward that gave her an understanding that she had sat frozen in her spot for roughly forty-three thousand, six hundred and seventy-two milliseconds. She would not admit to anyone else, that had she been bothered, she swore she could count out Max Planck’s universal pulse to all forty-four decimal places.

She brought the pen down and began writing out the letter she dreaded with all her unbeating heart. 

> _ ‘Harry, I do not know what you have been told, but I will not be able to attend Hogwarts with you and Ronald. Shortly after arriving home, I was attacked by a vampire. No, before you ask, they weren’t sent by the Dark Lord or anyone. It was random. He tried to feed off me, he wasn’t expecting a witch. My parents died during my bloodlust, Dumbledore and a couple of other Order members came to help me. I’ve been relocated to a secure location. I’m sure there will be rumors, don’t listen to them. I’m still on your side. When I’ve got my control improved, I will try to visit (just don’t expect Remus to stay in the same room, it’s not personal, it’s a thing). Also, things aren’t black and white, everyone has an agenda, don’t assume anything is the objective truth because they said so.’ _

Hermione closed her pen and rolled up the letter tightly. She picked up her wand, carefully channeling through the cracked, splintered, and singed wood to cast suitable protections on the parchment. She looked up to the deep black raven that perched on the edge of her desk, one leg out for the letter. As Hermione held the letter up for the bird to grasp, it leaned forward and pecked sharply into her arm, holding it there and licking up the thickened dark blood that welled up.

Hermione let out a quiet hiss, not quite used to the changes in her life. The Raven took flight, barely getting five feet out the window before it turned into smoke and disappeared. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the wound on her arm. Her eyes were wide as she watched her pale cold flesh knit back together as she watched.

The knock on her door startled her out of her still trance. She shook her head, reminding herself to move as she used to, those subtle repositioning shifts that her dead body no longer needed. Rising quickly, she walked the fifteen feet to her bedroom door in a blink of the eye. The gothic goddess on the other side had her reflexively dropping to one knee, instinct driving her action. “Your majesty…”

Queen Alessandra caught Hermione with little more than a finger under her chin before she could bow. “Miss Granger, please call me Alessandra, we have no need for formality within these walls.” She met Hermione’s gaze with a toothy smirk.

Hermione nodded, awkward with Alessandra’s finger holding her head up in an imperious angle. “Of course, you are welcome to call me Hermione.”

Alessandra dropped her finger and crooked it as she turned away. “Come have a drink with me in the study, Hermione.” She did not bother to check if Hermione followed, trusting the younger witch to recognize the signs. “I must regretfully say this talk will be all business. I require your opinions and insights.”

Hermione followed quickly, closing and locking her door behind her. She made sure she had her wand up her sleeve and jogged after the older vampire. “What could you possibly need my advice for?”

Alessandra motioned for Hermione to enter the study before her. “Please, take a seat and relax. You are not in any trouble or danger.” She followed Hermione, pulling the door shut quietly. Moving slowly, at a normal human pace, she made her way to the wet bar and decanters full of thick crimson liquid. “I received an envoy earlier today, one you may be familiar with, and I wanted your views on them before I did anything.”

Hermione tensed up briefly as she heard the cap of the decanter open. Anticipating the smell of blood, she worked through her mental and breathing exercises to maintain control over her new bloodlusts. “Okay, who were they?”

Alessandra glances to Hermione with the corner of her eyes as she poured two full goblets of blood. She admired the strength in the fledgling, able to keep a cool head with the open containers. She moved to the couch and offered Hermione one of the goblets. “They represented Lord Voldemort, it seems he has returned and is once more courting the Covens to rejoin him.” She took a slow, proper sip of her drink, watching Hermione’s actions.

Hermione took the offered drink, cradling the goblet with both hands. She was grateful she was no longer shaking or crazed when exposed to blood, but her first sip was more of a gulp. Alessandra’s appraising eyes and the conversation topic reminded her to act better. She straightened her posture and took the goblet in one hand, mimicking Alessandra’s gesture. “I’m familiar with him and his Death Eaters.” She glanced at the window and the sky, wishing she had waited to send the letter to include the news.

Alessandra chuckled softly and shook her head, amusement clear on her face. “I purposefully waited until you had sent your letter to your friend.” She continued over the shocked expression and sound from Hermione. “I do not have any issue with you informing your friends, however, I would prefer you do not spread incorrect or premature information.” She gave Hermione a look familiar and soothing to her, the expression of a teacher speaking with a favored student. “What do you know about Voldemort?”

Hermione took a breath to calm herself, anticipating needing the air for a long speech. “He’s an egomaniacal tyrant seeking to over England and the world. He’s an ultra-radical blood supremacist despite being a half-blood himself. He seeks power through force, and is not above using violence and terror to seal his goals.” She took a breath again and chased it with a restrained proper sip of her drink. She held it near her lips for several moments before lowering it, wanting to take another sip. “His death eaters range from racist aristocrats afraid of losing what prestige and power they have left, to brutish thugs wanting an excuse to act out their hatred.”

Alessandra listened intently, taking in every word Hermione spoke, and the ones she did not. “He claims his movement is to restore magic to greatness, to empower all magical beings.” She suspected his words were as genuine as any other politician courting support.

“He is true if you are considered a pure magical being in his and his followers' eyes. If he was simply power-hungry for the sake of power, it might be understandable; however, he has a very unique vision of the world.” Hermione met Alessandra’s gaze and narrowed her eyes. “He has a vision of a world only occupied by pure blooded Wizards, all those not either are dead or enslaved. He doesn’t hide his beliefs, nor do his followers. They advocate for the removal and extermination of muggle born witches and wizards from society. To them muggles are little more than cattle. Anyone not a pureblood by their definition is seen as lesser, magical creatures are as tolerated as muggleborns are.”

Hermione looked to her goblet and set it aside. She folded her hands neatly in her lap and looked to Alessandra with a cold and serious expression. “He would promise the world to those he would find useful or desirable, until they are no longer either, and they too would join those who fell before.”

Alessandra took a sip from her goblet and set it aside like Hermione. “I figured as much.” She raised an eyebrow at Hermione’s surprised expression. “I died before nineteen thirty three, Hermione. Thankfully my late predecessor is not around anymore, so it is up to me to decide what the Pritani will do.” She let Hermione stew for a moment before continuing. “I have no intention in sending our warriors into a situation destined to fail.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, recalling her DADA texts. “How did your predecessor, uh, leave office? I mean what is the procedure for leadership? Election?” She leaned forward, eyes wide with hunger for knowledge, something completely new to her.

Alessandra leaned forward as well, the conspiratorial expression on her face laced with sadistic playfulness. “Well, you see, for all our civility, we still have our instincts and lusts. The covens operate on a mix of popular sovereignty and self-interests. We may have personal grudges, but politically, we want to live.” She sat up straight, displaying then posture of a regal leader. “Covens decide their leader based on who they feel best serves their interests, the leaders decide the Senior Covenmaster by who best serves the interests of vampires. If the leader and the interests of vampires don’t match, new leadership is found, and very frequently, such nominations come with the corpse of the predecessor.”

Hermione remained silent for several minutes, thinking over that lesson. She idly took several small sips from her goblet as she pieced things together. “So when Voldemort lost, and the retaliations against his supporters happened, you no longer wanted him in power because wizards were threatening your survival.”

Alessandra’s eyes hardened briefly, noticing Hermione’s words. “ _We_ no longer wanted him, _our_ survival, Hermione. You are a vampire now, you’ve done remarkably well adapting, but you still need to accept your existence.” She did not need Legilimency to know what was in Hermione’s head. “You’ve gained the potential for tremendous opportunity, beyond anything any human could obtain.”

Hermione looked up from the goblet of blood she studied. “I thought that, exactly that when I found out I was a witch. Only to find out I was judged for this.” She raised the goblet, giving it a swirl before taking a sip.

“You aren’t a muggleborn anymore.” Alessandra’s words were stiffer, sharper as she spoke. “Do you have any idea how many wizards and witches are turned? How many of those retain their magic? Gone are the days when we were sought out, and wizards asked to be turned.” Alessandra stood up gracefully and moved to Hermione’s seat. She lowered herself down on her knees and looked up to Hermione, one hand cupping her chin to keep their eyes linked. “All the things you may have been before, muggle know-it-all, mudblood, brightest witch; pale in comparison to what you are now Hermione.” She lifted Hermione’s chin, forcing her to sit upright, head turned up imperiously. “You are a Princess of Darkness, a Blood Witch. The world is yours. You have the power now. You have a nigh eternity to pursue your destiny how you wish it. What you are feeling right now is just the shaky first steps of a foal just born into a new world.” She stood slowly, letting go of Hermione’s chin and straightening her skirts, matching the haughty posture.

“I want you as an advisor, officially. When I meet with Voldemort's envoy tomorrow evening, I want you at my side.” Alessandra’s words sounded halfway between a job offer and an order. She watched Hermione’s stunned expression, continuing before Hermione could interrupt her. “I can see you as a coven leader, head of your own bloodline, Perhaps even in my position one day.”

Hermione would have blushed if she could, settling for taking a sip from her goblet. “Thank you for everything you have done for me. I am honored you would consider me for your advisor.” She bowed her head respectfully before looking at Alessandra. “We should probably go over more about Voldemort and his movement before the meeting?”

* * *

Bellatrix stood idly at Lord Parkinson’s side, her wand still sheathed. Not that it would be difficult for her to draw it and be ready. She feigned her typical bored and distracted appearance, wide eyes taking in everything around her. She expected the wait; she was intimately familiar with the fine art of politics. She had worn her best outfits, dragon hide leather and acromantula silk, her hair and makeup styled to the perfection expected of any pureblood heiress.

Queen Alessandra entered first, Hermione at her side, both dressed to match, blood dyed dresses, cut and fitted to show off their deathless bodies. Alessandra was the first to sit at the table, Hermione second. “Lord Parkinson.” She glanced to Bellatrix, raising an eyebrow as if trying to place her. “Lestrange was it? Bellatrix?”

Bellatrix sat down after Lord Parkinson, the slight from the Blood Queen brought a curl to her lips, putting on her polite smile. “The Right Hand of the Dark Lord.” She narrowed her eyes towards Hermione, trying to place her. “And who is this delicious little morsel? She looks familiar.”

Alessandra smiled softly, “This is Hermione Granger, my protégé.” She nodded towards Hermione, taking a moment to watch her; aware this was the first time she had been around mortals since her bloodlust subsided. “We are here to discuss your request for the Vampire Covens of Pritani to aid Tom Marvolo Riddle in taking over the Ministry by force?”

Hermione forced herself to focus on Alessandra’s words, over the pounding twin drumbeats across the table from her. She met Bellatrix’s eyes and felt the probing pressure from her legilimency. Her barriers already decent from her personality and studying had become an impenetrable wall of ice with her death. Her lips curled on reflex, and she was about to snarl when she caught herself, forcing her attention back to the conversation.

“I do not know what you could offer us to make me reconsider. New facts have come to light since your first visit.” Alessandra remained cool and calm, unflappably still despite the frustrated anger from Lord Parkinson.

Bellatrix snorted and nodded towards Hermione as she interrupted. “Let me guess, the mudblood whispered in your ear and you believed her?” She turned to Lord Parkinson. “Are you certain the Dark Lord would wish to ally with these _creatures_ if they would sully themselves with such filth?”

Hermione felt two things, her lusts rising up inside her, and Alessandra’s attentions on her. She looked to Bellatrix and found her grip on her bloodlust. The final lasso around her new nature cinched tight. “Filth?” She let out a soft snort, her voice as calm as Alessandra’s but quieter and higher. She dropped a hand beneath the table and drew her dagger. With a slow gesture, she sliced open her palm and held it up. She watched as Bellatrix’s eyes darted from hers to the thick sluggish midnight crimson liquid oozing slowly out of the slice. “You should be aware of who you are speaking to, Daughter of House Black. For someone who claims the old ways, you should know just how much this is worth.” Her words came stronger without changing tempo of volume. She sat up straighter, feeling the courage and strength hinted to her the previous night. “You should be begging for a drop on your tongue, not courting us like a hired mercenary.”

Hermione turned to look to her Queen, waiting for the nod from Alessandra before continuing. She looked to Lord Parkinson directly now. “You ask for our help, but what do you offer us as consideration and compensation? Would you offer us your daughter, Pansy?” She looked to Bellatrix, baring her fangs in a confident grin. “How much do you know your precious Dark Lord? Would Tom Riddle trade you for a hundred warriors? Would you offer yourself to me right now for an alliance?” She gave Bellatrix a slow look over, her expression somewhere between looking at Bellatrix as a piece of meat for dinner or for pleasure. She let enough of that raw bloodlust show to sell it. “Get on the table and bare yourself to me, offer your pure blood and delectable body to my bloodlust...”


End file.
